He rooted among his traps and tools with no purpose, determined to show no sign that seeing her naked and dripping wet had any effect on him.
“I’m dressed.”
Nicholas glanced her way. His mouth went dry.
She stood facing the fire clad only in her shift, combing the tangles from her hair. Clearly she had no idea that the firelight rendered her shift all but transparent, displaying the luscious curves beneath in tantalizing detail.
He struggled to compose himself, picked up his book, stood and faced her. “I used to brush my mother’s hair at night. Sit and read, and let me take care of the snarls.”
In truth, his father had held the brush, but Nicholas had often watched, as charmed by his mother’s long, red-gold curls as his father had been, though not in the same way. But this was different. He did not feel a boy’s innocent fascination with Bethie’s long locks, but a man’s knowing hunger.
Bethie looked up at him, tried to read the emotion behind his eyes, hesitated. No one had combed her hair since she was six and had learned to braid it herself. She supposed there could be no harm in this beyond the pinch she would feel when he pulled too sharply on her tangles. Then, just to be safe, she took up her shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders, hiding herself beneath a layer of wool, despite the warmth of the evening.
He pulled out a chair for her. “Sit.”
She sat, traded the wooden comb for his book. He had marked the page with a small strip of leather. She opened it, careful not to tear the page, and searched for the place where they’d left off the night before.
He sat behind her, gathered the heavy weight of her hair into his hands, lifted it over the back of her chair.
She began to read. “Candide, thus... driv-en out of this... ter-res...” She paused.
“Terrestrial.”
“What does that mean—‘terrestrial’?” She shivered as he ran the comb slowly through her wet hair.
“‘Terrestrial’ means ‘of the Earth,’ the opposite of ‘heavenly.’”
What he was doing with his hands was heavenly. He worked gently to part the tangles at her sensitive nape, his fingers brushing her skin, making her scalp tighten, tingle.
“Candide, thus dr-driven out of this terrestrial... para-dise?”
“Aye, paradise. Good.” His voice was husky, deep, as he combed her hair with slow, steady strokes.
“Candide, thus driven out of this terrestrial paradise... rambled a long time without knowing where he went.” Where was she going? What path were her feet treading tonight? She could never have imagined that having another person comb her hair could be so pleasurable. Always when her mother had done this, it had hurt, the sting sometimes enough to bring tears to her eyes.
“Good. Keep going.”
“Sometimes he... raised... his eyes all be-dewed... with tears toward heaven, and sometimes he cast a mel... mel-an...” She felt her attention slip from the pages as his fingers slid through her tresses.
“Melancholy.” His breath caressed her cheek as he leaned forward to glance at the page, and she caught his scent—leather, forest, man.
He’d been this close to her this afternoon. And he’d kissed her, his lips scorching her.
“...melancholy look toward the... mag... ni... fi...” She wanted him to kiss her again, willed him to kiss her again, desperate to feel his lips on her skin.
“Magnificent.”
But she had forgotten the book, forgotten everything except the feel of his fingers as they massaged her temples. Strong fingers, they moved in slow, deliberate circles, then delved deeply into her hair to caress her scalp.
A frisson of pure pleasure skittered along her spine.
She let the weight of her head fall back into his hands as they moved to caress her nape. A voice in her mind reminded her that she shouldn’t be enjoying this. She shouldn’t want this. She shouldn’t want him. But she did.
Then his lips pressed a featherlight kiss against the sensitive skin beneath her ear, and she heard herself whimper.
Aware of her every breath, Nicholas felt her tremble, heard the small sound that escaped her throat. Was it desire? Or fear?
He looked for the answer on her face. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, and even as he tasted her skin again, she tilted her head away from him, baring her throat to his kisses.
